Fight Within
by allialli
Summary: my version of the cancer arc... some things we ALL wanted to see
1. Chapter 1

This is a rewrite of the cancer arc for my pleasure. Scully loses her composure a little, but I believe my version is more true to what ACTUALLY happens when you have cancer, being a cancer survivor myself. And I'm sure there's some stuff in here that you guys would like to read. It can't be just me…

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

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**Fight Within**

"Scully?" I hear Mulder call for me. He seems so far away, but I can see him standing at the door, waiting for permission to come in. As if I have x-ray vision, or some psychic insight. I cannot see through the door to my apartment, nor can I see into the minds of others, but I can definitely see him standing out in the hallway, looking nervous, holding a bouquet of flowers. Daisies, most likely. He knows I love daisies. He knows something is wrong. He knows I am on the couch, in my pajamas, in my most vulnerable. However, Mulder does not have x-ray vision or a psychic ability either. We just know each other that well. We are partners, we are best friends. If we weren't able to see things in each other, we'd both be dead right now. He has saved me more times than I can count. But he cannot save me this time.

"It's open!" I call from the couch. It's not open but he will use his key to let himself in. I can't remember giving him my key, it seems as if he's always had it. I have his key too, but oddly, I can't remember receiving that from him either.

Fox Mulder, who hates being called Fox, steps through the door with a bouquet of daisies and a big smile. His smile usually makes me smile and vice versa, but not tonight. Nothing can make me smile tonight. I don't even know why I called him. Aside from a small incident of mine a few weeks ago involving a desk and a tattoo, we've been fairly happy lately. After his mother woke up from her coma, it seems as if some kind of weight has been lifted off our shoulders. We've been having fun, taking more time off, just living our lives as normal people. I shouldn't upset him, not now. Not when he's been so content. Lord knows it is a rare day where Fox Mulder is content. And now I'm just going to ruin all of that… telling him what the doctor told me a few hours ago. Better to do it now than later, but I wish I didn't have to tell him at all. He will undoubtedly blame himself, and I don't want to do that to him.

"Hey, I got your call--" and suddenly, seeing his face makes me cry. His happy face with his sparkling green eyes and day-old stubble. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want him to hurt himself.

"Dana," he says, dropping the flowers on the table and rushing to my side. He hasn't called me by my first name since my sister died, something else he blames himself for. We have a strict last name to last name relationship, and not just because he hates his first name. We are not just partners, not just friends, but _best_ kind of friends that bring each other coffee in the morning and stop by without calling first because they know the others' schedule and also know they won't be mad. He only calls me Dana when something's wrong. Well, something is wrong, and it won't be right again for a long time, so I guess I'd better get used to Dana.

Now he is kneeling by my couch. He takes my hand, but I cannot stop crying. I want so badly not to tell him what I learned this morning, but it is important that he knows. It's important that he knows why I'm going to be different… scared, even. He knows me. He knows that I do not get scared. He knows that if I _do_ get scared, that I usually never show it. But now I will be scared 24/7, at some point my resolve is going to fade and I'm going to need my best friend there beside me. So it might help if he understands everything and I am the one explaining it.

"Dana, when you called… I was worried. I didn't want to think anything was wrong. But something is wrong, and I need you to tell me what it is. Tell me what is making you cry," he pleads with me. It is still a few minutes before I am able to gain enough composure to form full sentences. He waits patiently, never letting go of my hand.

"I went to the doctor this morning," I start, trying to brush my tears away. "I went because I have been feeling sick and not myself lately. They ran some tests, then they did some imaging on me… and they found something, Mulder. They found something not good," I try to explain. I still can't tell him what it is they found, even though he is silently begging me to tell him everything. He would run to the moon and back for me, but I can't even give him that much. If I were Mulder I would leave. Get out of our relationship, whatever it was, as soon as possible. _My partner is obviously not willing to trust me with her greatest fears, why should I stick around? _I would say to myself, then leave. But Mulder would never _ever_ leave me.

"What did they find, Dana?" he asks. I can feel him trembling. He knows that it is not good news.

"A tumor," I whisper. He still hears me, though, and puts his head in my lap. We both want to be strong for each other, but this scares us both so much. He is already blaming himself, I can tell. He is asking himself why I chose to stay with him, why can he not keep me safe? He is cursing himself for involving me in a quest that should be his own. He is cursing a god he is not even sure exists. He is cursing me… _I _am cursing me.

"Is it what we saw in Allentown?" he asks as he brings his head off of my thighs, trying to remain calm. But I can see the wet marks he left on my pants. I can see the tear streaks that glaze his beautiful face. I can only nod.

"Is it operable?" is his next question.

"No," I say simply.

"But it's treatable," he assumes. There must be some hope. And it is my job to tell him that there is none.

"The type and placement of the tumor make it difficult… to the extreme," I say. He ponders my explanation for a minute, deciding that it is not enough.

"I refuse to accept that," he says with purpose. He is still kneeling, and I run my fingers down his jawbone.

"I'm sorry," I quietly apologize, putting my head down. It is my way of admitting defeat. He knows this. He sits down on the couch and pulls me into his lap.

"This is not going to kill you," he whispers into my hair. I grip his hands for dear life, tears falling down my cheeks but I am not crying. Not for myself, at least. This man is my world, and I am his. He means so much to me and it pains me to leave him. But I come to the conclusion that soon I must. He knows it too. That is my Mulder, though, being indifferent. I laugh at myself. _My Mulder_. When he became my possession, I cannot say. Maybe it was when we became partners, best friends… whenever he gave me his heart in exchange for mine. It was not right away. I didn't want to give a piece of myself to him at first. But Mulder was the only person I had ever met that worked, truly worked, to earn my trust and my friendship. I would say we have come pretty far, from that day when I walked into his office and he accused me of being a spy. Now we are holding each other on my couch, crying because that time we once thought so infinite has now been given a limit. We are not ready to accept that. Here he was, on my couch, upset because of the fact that I was in pain… that I was slipping away. He was crying for me. How could I not give him my heart?

"We're going to have to be strong," he told me, tears lacing his voice. I nodded, knowing that I will fight, quite literally, to the death to stay with him. And I know that he will fight just as hard to keep me here. We are just beginning to realize how entangled our lives are. Mulder is speaking in terms of _we_ even. I nod against his chest, and that is when I know that I will not give up, no matter what my chances may be or what the statistics are. Mulder and I have been able to pull off the impossible before, we will certainly be able to do it again. Alone, I will not be able to do it. But with Mulder… I once said that anything was possible with him. And I still believe that.


	2. Chapter 2

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

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"Scully?" is the next coherent thing to run across my mind. I slowly open my eyes--_they were closed?_-- and realize that it is dark out, I am laying on my couch, and someone is laying there with me. Mulder. I fell asleep with Mulder.

"Yeah, Mulder?" I ask, sitting up and stretching. Not only did I fall asleep on the couch with him, I fell asleep in his lap. Surprisingly, I didn't immediately think of how inappropriate that was. Actually, my first thought was, _Wow, he's warm._

"You hungry? I'm hungry. We've been sleeping for awhile."

"I am a little hungry, I guess."

"What do you want?"

"I don't care. Anything's fine, you pick."

"No, Scully, I'd really feel better if you picked."

"Why?"

"Because I always pick."

"You do not."

"Do too."

"Name the last time you picked."

"When we were watching those surveillance videos during the Turner case. I picked pizza, and we both got sick off the mushrooms."

"Mulder, that was ages ago! I've picked a million times since then!"

"Well, you have great taste."

"Mulder…"

"Scully…"

"Is it because you feel bad?" I burst into tears. I didn't know exactly why, but everything was making me emotional.

"What?"

"You want me to pick because you feel sorry for me! Look, this is already changing us!" I yelled. I jumped the couch and locked myself in the bathroom. When I was young and I didn't want my parents to know I was crying, I used to run to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I did that, but Mulder already knew my secret. A moment later, I heard his soft knock on the door.

"Scully," he said gently. I wanted to apologize right there but a stubbornness inside me left the door closed and tried to ignore him. Even though he didn't knock again, I knew he was just on the other side of the door. Call it my psychic ability, my x-ray vision, whatever. I knew Mulder would stay there until I decided to come out. And I couldn't hide in the bathroom all day, especially with the shower running. The first sign of my armistice was turning that off.

When I replayed the scene over in my mind, I kept looking stupider. All he wanted me to do was pick what kind of food we ate! He just spent hours on my couch with me in his arms and I couldn't do even that for him? What kind of friend was I? Again, Mulder, why don't you leave? What was this doing to me?

"Scully, please come out here so we can talk," he called. I figured that I at least owed him that much. With my head down and my eyes unable to meet his, I turned off the light and walked out of the bathroom. I was instantly met by Mulder's soft chest and I let his arms wrap around me.

"I know you're afraid," he cooed.

"I'm afraid of being afraid," I admitted. He seemed to understand my logic.

"I'm not going to treat you any differently. And if you think I am, I want you to tell me right away, promise?"

"Mulder, it's not your fault. I don't know what came over me, all you wanted me to do was pick what we were going to have for dinner!"

"You were the one who felt what you felt, so tell me when you feel like I'm not acting normal."

"I'm sorry I'm so emotional."

"It's very okay. Don't be sorry."

"No, it's not okay. You're not going to treat me any different and I'm not going to treat you any different."

"It's just stupid dinner. I'm not even hungry anymore."

"Then we don't have to eat." I was about to tell him then that he probably wouldn't say that under normal circumstances, but I was so cold and he was so warm… not to mention the way his arms felt around my waist… I just wanted to stay there with him for the rest of my life.

"Scully?" Mulder asked after a long hug.

"Yeah?" I asked, not letting him leave my embrace.

"You're going to bed," he told me, "and I'm going to come over tomorrow and we're going to talk this thing through."

"I'm not tired, Mulder," I told him. That was a lie and he knew it. He knew sleeping on the couch only made me more tired.

"Fine, if you're not tired, then stay up and read or do whatever. But I'm going to leave in case you do decide to go to sleep," he let me go without calling me out.

"Mulder…" I trailed as he started to walk away. I grabbed his hand.

"Yeah?" he asked, like he didn't know what I was going to say.

"I want you to stay here tonight… I don't want to be alone," I managed to admit. The smile on Mulder's face lit up the room. Whenever I let down my walls, he was always extremely cautious. He knew not to force me into dependence, but without encouragement, nine times out of ten I would go back to acting tough and perfectly fine. I always appreciated how he handled me when I was like that. Mulder was the only person I allowed myself to be vulnerable around (with the exception of my mom) because he was the only one who could find that delicate balance of compassion and comfort. He cared enough to try and find balance. For that, I decided to let him in. Just this once.

"Okay, Scully. I'll stay here. I'll be on the couch," he told me, squeezing my hand.

"No, Mulder," I said as he started to walk out of the room. The expression on his face begged for more of an explanation.

"I want you to _stay with me_," I tugged the hand he kept mine in and pulled him toward the bedroom. To most, it would have looked subliminal. Mulder knew better, though, and I didn't know if that scared me or made me happy.

"You're sure?" he asked, still tentative.

"Positive," I said, and we collapsed onto my bed. He wrapped himself around me, and I basked in his warmth. He was still warmer than me, even though I had suffered a sweat-producing breakdown. I would never figure this man out… the man who could _just sleep_ peacefully in my bed with me, who was so warm it made me melt, who was so sweet that it made my teeth hurt. I couldn't figure him out and I didn't want to figure him out, so I just lay there with his arms around my waist and his chin on my shoulder until sleep finally came.

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**this kind of thing actually happened to me quite frequently throughout my illness. i was so emotional, i would get offended by the tiniest things and take everything people said the wrong way. that kind of thing only gets worse with chemo, radiation, and all the stress involved, so be prepared. i promise i won't do anything _too_ out of character for our scully!**


	3. Chapter 3

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

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I awoke the next morning expecting Mulder to still be wrapped around me. He wasn't there, though, and I shivered in his absence. Where had he gone? Had I just dreamt it all? The answer to the latter appealed to me because if it all had been a dream, then nothing that I remembered from yesterday would have happened, and I would be cancer-free. It was futile to dream, though. I knew better.

Something banging in the kitchen caught my attention, so I got up to investigate. I wrapped the comforter around me and shuffled slowly out of my bedroom. For some reason, I wasn't worried about conspiracies or hit-men or anything like that. The air smelled like food. There could only be one person in my kitchen.

"Morning Sunshine!" Mulder exclaimed when he saw me come out of my room. Images of the Swedish Chef ran through my mind when he cracked an egg and started to fry it over the stove. I rarely ever tasted Mulder's cooking, but when he did make something for us, I was always amazed. Fox Mulder did not look like a good cook, but he indeed was.

"Morning," I sighed and plopped myself down at the table. He left the eggs, bacon, and hash browns to sit by themselves a minute while he poured me a cup of coffee. I was surprised, to say the least, at his domesticity.

"You don't have to do all this Mulder," I told him as he placed the steaming hot liquid down in front of me.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his eyes pleading me to say no.

"No," I told him, "I just don't want to inconvenience you." He smiled at this.

"In case you haven't noticed, Scully, this is my breakfast too," Mulder ran his free hand through my unruly morning hair and went back to cooking. We sat in a comfortable silence until the food was all ready. I did not have to say a thing. He knew exactly what to put on my plate. But there was something eating me up inside. Something that I dreaded more than anything. Something that, no matter how strong I was, I could not without Mulder's help.

"Mulder," I started. He was half-finished with his breakfast, but I had hardly touched mine.

"Yeah?" he asked when I didn't continue my sentence.

"I need… _we_ need… to tell my mother," I said so quietly it was amazing he even heard me. But he did, and he stopped eating and reached for my hand across the table. I did not pull away, but I couldn't lift my head up to meet his concerned gaze. My eyes focused on my lap, which soon got blurry and became wet with tears.

"Okay," Mulder told me, pretending not to notice I was crying, "_we_ can do that."

* * *

Two hours later, my mother knocks on the door. I called her up and invited her over for an early lunch, and she had no problem. I did not tell her that I had news for her. I also did not tell her Mulder was there. She was quite shocked when he answered the door.

"Fox!" she exclaimed, embracing him. "Dana didn't mention you--"

"Hi Mom," I interrupted, receiving a hug from her as well, though it was not as enthusiastic as Mulder's. I could not begin to explain to my mother why my partner was there to have lunch with us, because then everything would come out, and I needed her to be sitting down. Plus, there was no use letting Mulder's perfectly good cooking go to waste. I decided that we would eat first and have the dreaded talk later. Maybe I was just stalling.

"Hi Sweetie," Mom said after she kissed my forehead. I was not spared her look, though. She knew something was up when Mulder joined us for lunch, especially if he had been there before she arrived and didn't know how long we had actually been together. She had this frame of mind that thought Mulder was good for me, and that we were soul-mates or something. That's my mother for you. Can't distinguish her life from a romance novel. Fortunately, I learned how to conquer my mother's looks with some of my own, and she backed off.

"Something smells delicious, Honey," she said instead.

"Yeah, uh, Mulder made us lunch, so let's go eat," I smiled awkwardly. Mulder was still standing at the threshold, watching the show. He laughed inaudibly at my discomfort. I had the feeling that it was going to be one hell of a day.

* * *

"Fox, that is the best chicken salad I think I've ever had. You have a talent," my mother praised Mulder after lunch. It was good, almost as good as breakfast, though I wasn't really a fan of chicken salad. We had made small talk throughout our meal, so there was an air of tension between all of us. Mom knew something was going on, she was just too polite to beat it out of me with Mulder there.

"Umm, Mom, we have to talk. Could you please come sit down?" I asked, beginning the long conversation that was sure to ensue. Without a word, Mom walked slowly into the living room and sat nervously on the edge of my couch. I sat down, then Mulder came behind me and put his hand on my arm. The scene was as if we were about to tell her we were expecting a child, but Mom knew better. She knew that if Mulder and I were sleeping together, I wouldn't be able to hide it from her.

"What's going on Dana?" she asked, looking worried. I wished I could give her good news. The past few years had been hard on her. She had been devastated after the deaths of my dad and Missy. I hated to tell her that she might lose her other daughter. It would surely send her over the edge. The thought made me cringe, and I turned sharply toward Mulder, leaning my head against his shoulder. I was fighting back tears. I had cried too much in the past 24 hours. When Mulder snaked his arms under mine, though, they fell anyway.

"I'm confused, Dana. Please tell me what's wrong," I could hear Mom. She had a strong grip on my lower arm. It was supposed to be a loving grip. She didn't realize that her worry was noticeable.

"Mom," I cried, turning back to her. Her expression tore through me. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as well. She was holding out, trying to be strong. I was just like her.

"Tell her Dana," Mulder whispered in my ear. His warm breath gave me courage, and I nodded almost unnoticeably. I had to tell her. Not before a small hand squeeze.

"Mom," I began again, sniffling and trying to calm down, "Mom, I'm… I'm afraid that I have some bad news. Yesterday I took a trip to the doctor because I hadn't been feeling well. They ran some tests and took some pictures and Mom… I have cancer."

I hadn't really thought about how I expected my mother to react. I didn't really catch her initial reaction, though, because my eyes were once again on my lap. Her gasp was enough to send chills up and down my spine.

"Oh Dana," Mom sobbed, taking my hand. I melted into my mother's body, and we cried together. Mulder sat back like the pillar of strength he had come to be. It would not bother him to see us cry. It would not bother him if he cried. Yet he looked away and dabbed at his eyes, hoping to do neither. There would be a time and place where we could cry together, but that was not it. And from now on, timing would mean everything.

We discussed the possibilities. We discussed my treatment options. Mom and I would never talk about such things ever again, I was sure, but it seemed as if we were going to talk about my death, it was as good a time as ever. She was heartbroken. She kept crying and between the cries I heard, _"Not you too, Dana. Not my baby girl too."_ This made Mulder feel terrible. He had never quite gotten over Melissa's death. I knew that every time we spoke about her, and even when we didn't, he would beat himself up for effectively "taking" my sister away from me. I had tried many times to tell him that Melissa's death was not his fault, but he still blamed himself. And he was worried that deep down, I blamed him too.

My mother was hesitant to leave and stayed into the evening. Mulder offered to make dinner, but we weren't really hungry. Eventually, around 8:30, I persuaded her that I needed my sleep.

"You call me, Dana Katherine, when you figure out what you're going to do. I'll be here," she told me, pulling me into not just a hug, but sort of a desperate cling, searching for proof that I was still there and that I hadn't left… yet. I told her in the most composed voice I could manage that once I figured everything out, I would tell her what was going on.

"Fox… it was nice seeing you, Dear. Thank you for taking care of my daughter," Mom told Mulder before one last hug. Mulder grimaced at the thought. He knew I would hate terming what had went on between us as Mulder "taking care" of me. He knew that I hated being taken care of. So, over my mother's shoulder, we exchanged a knowing glance, and when she left, he took my hand.

"I'm not here to take care of you. I'm just here to help you out," he said. I nodded.

"I know… thanks."

"So, was that as bad as you expected it to be?"

"Mulder, telling my mother that I have cancer wasn't on my list of things to do in my lifetime. I hated it. But, now that she knows, outside of the Bureau, I won't have to tell anybody. She'll manage that for me."

"Oh. When were you planning on telling Skinner?"

"Monday, when we go back to work."

"You're going back to work?"

"For the time being. I can't let this thing take over, Mulder. I can't let it affect my everyday life. If I'm going to beat it, I'm going to have to retain as much normalcy as possible."

"What about treatment? Isn't that going to take its toll on you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Don't give me that, Scully. You're a doctor. You know you won't be fine."

"What am I supposed to do, Mulder? Quit my job, sit back, and wait to die?"

"No, Scully. Focus on living."

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**read and review... that's MY motto**


	4. Chapter 4

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

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"Dana," Mulder whispered softly to me. It was the greatest feeling in the world, waking up to his warm breath on my ear. I pretended not to hear him, hoping that he would say something else, but he let me sleep. Instead, he lay back down and put his arm around me.

"I know you're awake," he told me matter-of-factly. I smiled and tried not to laugh. What an idiot I had been to think that I could fool someone who knew me so well.

"I don't want to get up," I mumbled, eyes still closed.

"You have to get up. You have to… today you start treatment," he said cautiously. The night before that subject had been taboo. He had stayed with me all weekend, us just soaking up each other's company like never before. I enjoyed it. I knew he enjoyed it. Then Monday came around and we had to go into work and tell Skinner that I was sick and that I needed some time off. I hadn't imagined that telling my boss I had cancer would be almost as hard as telling my mother. Mulder sensed my nervousness, and he was different before our meeting. He was "Weekend Mulder." No case files. No talk of extra-terrestrials. Just me and Mulder in the office, sitting back and dreading what every minute brought us closer to. Then, in Skinner's office, when I was telling him, Mulder stood closer, as if he were right there expecting me to lean back on him. I wouldn't, and Mulder knew that, but he was there nonetheless. I never told him how much I appreciated that. I was pretty sure he knew, though.

Skinner told me to start my leave early. I knew Mulder and Skinner didn't exchange any words later that day. They didn't need to. Skinner gave Mulder permission to go home with me before working hours were up. Not only that, Mulder understood that my leave was his leave, and one look from Skinner was all it took for him to know that.

Mulder showed up at my house soon after, and even though he told me he had gone home, I knew that he didn't. That was when he told me that he wouldn't be going back to work for awhile. Before we spent the weekend together, I would have resented that. I was just glad somebody was going to be there for me, though. I was sick of facing things by myself.

That night had gone well enough. We watched a _Twilight Zone_ marathon on the Sci-fi channel over Chinese food. We were in the middle of _Five Characters in Search of an Exit_ when I felt something trickle down my upper lip. When I jerked my head, a drop of crimson liquid fell into my white rice. Mulder noticed and turned white when he saw that my nose was bleeding. Trying to shrug it off, I silently walked into the bathroom, but couldn't contain myself when he came up behind me and started to rub my shoulders. I didn't cry, but I lowered my head as a sign of defeat. The blood fell into the sink. I didn't try to stop it or worry about cleaning it up.

"I can't watch you do this," Mulder said slowly.

"Then leave. Nobody's forcing you to stay," I snapped.

"I'm not talking about this. You know what I mean."

"What am I supposed to do? I can't control what this does to me."

"It's time we look into treatment plans."

"I know… I just… can't," I struggled. At this point, Mulder turned me around, blood and all, and placed a single kiss to my forehead.

"I'm here," he whispered, "… I'll help you." They were simple words but they held so much meaning.

"Promise?" I asked, not because I needed the conformation, but because I needed the strength of a promise at that time when nothing seemed forever anymore.

"I promise," he said, and we cleaned up the blood. Before long, we were on the phone with someone I knew from medical school. He had become an oncologist. Since I knew him personally, a quick visit to his office was scheduled that night, and we had a treatment planned that would start the next morning. Mulder and I got back to my place late, and I didn't have the willpower to let him go home. We slept together in my bed for the third night in a row.

* * *

"What time is it?" I asked, not used my internal alarm clock.

"7:00. We have to be at the hospital in an hour," Mulder told me. At first I took that news with a grain of salt, but then I started thinking about all I had to do, and I snapped up in bed.

"I still have to pack, Mulder," I remarked as I scrambled out of bed. He sat there and watched me rush into the bathroom and try to pack things while simultaneously trying to brush my teeth and hair.

"Scully, why don't you take a shower? I'll pack for you," Mulder suggested.

"Do you know what to pack? I'm going to be in the hospital for a week this first time," I said, surprising myself that I was even considering letting Mulder pack for me.

"It shouldn't be hard. You're going to be in the hospital, so… pajamas? Sweats. I don't know, maybe even a pair of jeans? You're bathrobe, slippers, socks, underwear--"

"_I'll_ pack my underwear, thanks Mulder."

"What, Scully? Like I haven't seen your underwear before?"

"Not on purpose. I'll let you pack everything else, okay? Just don't touch that top drawer or you'll get it."

"Is that a promise?" he joked, and I playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

When I was finished showering and dressing, I walked out to find a whole suitcase of things I would need (and admittedly some things I didn't) packed by Mulder, save for underwear like I had asked. I quickly threw some panties and the most comfortable bras I owned into the suitcase and joined him out in the living room. There was a suitcase sitting by his feet.

"Got everything you need?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks. I especially like how you put videos in the bag. I just hope--"

"They're not those videos that aren't mine," he finished for me. I smiled.

"Darn. I bet we could have had a lot of fun with those," I joked. It was Mulder's turn to smile and, without words, we left my apartment. Thanks to Mulder, we had 35 minutes to get to the hospital.

It went without saying, we got in my car but Mulder got in the driver's seat. We were on the road passing the exit to Alexandria when I noticed something.

"Mulder, what about your things?" I asked as the mile markers rushed by.

"Already packed," he said without taking his eyes off the road.

"When? I didn't know you had a bag at my place."

"I don't. Last night, when we were coming back to your place from the doctor's, I stopped by the apartment after you fell asleep. I packed some things so that I wouldn't have to leave you."

"Oh," was all I said next. He had thought of everything.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the hospital was the smell. That was the one thing I had always hated about the place. It was that unmistakable smell of antiseptic, blood, professionalism, and death. Maybe torture. Maybe suffering. It made my stomach turn. Mulder noticed, he took my bag from me and handed me the coffees we had stopped to get. I felt a little better when I put the warm liquid up to my face.

"What floor is oncology again?" Mulder asked, even though I knew he remembered.

"Fifth," I said, not letting on that I knew he was just trying to make conversation. The elevator seemed to take forever to open, but once we got inside, I started dreading going up and wishing there would be many stops along the way. Within no time, though, we arrived at the oncology ward, and I was officially Dana Scully: cancer patient.

"Scully, go get your things on. I'll take care of everything out here," Mulder told me, referring to my gown. It was a typical hospital gown, but I had requested one that tied around the shoulders instead of in back. I liked those better, for obvious reasons.

"Dana, how are you feeling?" my friend, Dr. Stover, asked when I got out of the bathroom. I had slipped a pair of black sweatpants with University of Maryland down the leg on under the gown. My slippers and thick socks added to the "bum" look. I figured I'd better start acting like the patient that I was, at least while in the hospital. I wouldn't tell Mulder this, though. It would scare him if I did. It scared me.

"Hi Andrew. I'm feeling fine," I smiled, shaking his hand then sitting on the bed. Mulder came up behind me just like he had when I was telling my mother and Skinner. Like he was there for me to fall back on.

"I hate that this is the reason we finally get together after so long," Andrew told me.

"It is unfortunate. But I'm glad I have you as a doctor," I said truthfully. Andrew had been one of the top graduates in his class. I trusted him not only to know what he was doing, but to also have my best interests at heart. Andrew was always that type of guy.

"Hi, I'm Andrew Stover, I don't think we've met," my new doctor extended his hand toward Mulder. Mulder just looked at him for a moment, as if wondering what he was doing. This new routine was making him a little hazy as well. Even with our fair share of hospital experience, it still got the best of Mulder, especially _I _was the one in the hospital. After careful consideration, though, Mulder shook Andrew's hand. "Andrew, this is my partner, Fox Mulder," I introduced them.

"So you keep Dana safe in the field? Great job, Agent Mulder, I would have thought that by now she would have gotten herself into a heap of trouble. She did always have a temper."

Andrew didn't know why, but Mulder gave him the most offended look. Then, Mulder looked like he was going to knock him on the ground. He totally forgot for that minute that Andrew didn't know anything about our line of work. And it went without saying that Mulder blamed himself for my disease, just like he did everything. I, for one, stopped breathing for a short period of time, waiting to see what was going to happen. I was pleading with God for Mulder to keep his cool. God must have heard me, because just as Mulder got up and looked hard into Andrew's eyes, my nose started to bleed. Mulder instantly forgot about the serious faux pas that Andrew had made and rushed to my side.

"Are you okay, Scully?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told him, never so happy for a nosebleed. I got up and went to the bathroom, taking Mulder with me so that nothing would happen between him and Dr. Stover while I was in there.

* * *

**happy new year!!!!!**


	5. Chapter 5

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

_a/n: this chapter is quite graphic (or at least i like to think). if needles bother you, or you are just good at visualizing pain... you have been warned._

* * *

We got my nose to stop bleeding fairly quickly. Mulder wouldn't take his eyes off me when we walked out of the bathroom, which I guess was okay because it kept him from giving Andrew the death stare. From there, we talked about my treatment.

"Okay Danes, we're going to start with something pretty effective. Just your basic chemotherapy here to try and shrink your tumor as much as possible. It's called induction therapy. You'll be here for a week doing that. Then, we'll start you on regular weekend treatments of chemo and radiation to the site. Overall, I'd say we'd know something after about two months of treatment, but I'm optimistic. Either this stuff works or it doesn't, though, and I know I don't have to sugar coat it for you so I'm just going to come right out and say it… if this treatment doesn't shrink your tumor then I don't know what else to do. Nasopharyngeal tumors are very hard to deal with, and if conventional treatment doesn't work, then I'm afraid I'm out of treatment options. I'm sorry to have to put it so bluntly, but I know you wouldn't want it any other way," Andrew explained to me. I was a strong doctor, and I had once been prepared to give other people the same news I had just received, but that last part made my heart drop in my chest. I didn't want to think that if my treatment didn't work then that was it. I didn't want to think there would be no hope left.

"I understand. Thank you," I said in a small voice. Mulder's hands laced themselves protectively around mine. I could feel his emotions for me radiating off of him. If Andrew didn't say something a little more positive soon, Mulder was going to kill him. He would rip him to shreds for me. Then we'd go get a second opinion and if it were the same, he'd rip that doctor to shreds. He'd do that until we found someone who would tell us what we wanted to hear. Luckily, I was a little more realistic.

"What is your outlook for Dana?" Mulder asked in a pained voice.

"It's kind of hard to tell at this point. Statistically, this cancer is very hard to overcome, nearly impossible," I almost had to hold Mulder back here, "but with the new research we've been conducting on the previous victims of this disease, we should be able to treat Dana in the best way we can. We have more information, that way we can treat her more effectively."

"And exactly what type of side-effects will she suffer from?" Mulder asked. This question cut down to my very core. I knew exactly what the side-effects would be. Nausea, vomiting, mouth sores, infections, anemia, fatigue, intestinal problems, and of course, hair loss. I cringed at the thought of losing my hair. I wasn't a vain person by any means, but nobody wants to be without hair. And my hair… it was who I was. But if the alternative was dying, then I'd gladly lose my hair.

"I'm sure Dana will be able to recite all this off the top of her head," Andrew smiled at me, his attempt at humor almost pitiful. "In cases where we treat patients using chemotherapy and radiation, generally the most common side-effects are nausea and vomiting, problems eating, lethargy, sometimes anemia, just general malaise. Also, chemotherapy targets cells that divide rapidly, and among those cells are hair cells. Dana will probably lose most of, if not all of, her hair."

We both knew it was undeniable. I was going to be changing drastically in the next few months, maybe even in less time than that. For some reason, I became very afraid that this would scare Mulder away. Seeing me like that would scare him just as much as it would scare me, but would he stay regardless? The three of us became wrapped up in thought, and before long, we realized that we had been sitting in silence for a few minutes.

"Umm, if you guys don't have any more questions, I'm going to review your labs and x-rays, then I'll send Dr. Margaret Hill. She'll be your chemotherapy technologist. She'll have somebody take your blood pressure and general physical status, then we'll put in your catheter, okay Dana?" Andrew asked. I was startled by his suddenness and took a deep breath.

"That sounds good. Thank you, Andrew."

* * *

"Okay, Dr. Scully, you know that this isn't going to feel good. Try to relax and focus on something else," my nurse, Wendy, told me as she prepped me for the I.V. catheter. Being a doctor was really starting to work against me. I wasn't ignorant about what was happening. I knew they were going to stick a tube in my hand and push it all the way up through my arm. That was where they would administer the chemo drugs. I knew it was going to hurt like hell. I knew I was not going to be able to relax or focus on something else. What was worse, Mulder knew that I knew. And he also saw how I reacted to the news. My hands were starting to get clammy and my breath was becoming short and bated. If them putting a catheter in me was going to hurt _me_, then it was certainly going to hurt Mulder just as much, if not more. I tried to calm down for his sake.

"Is this something I'm going to wanna look away from?" he whispered in my ear as Wendy prepped the needle and tube. The sight of that made my eyes water. I bit my lower lip and nodded.

"Mulder, even I am going to have to look away from this. It's going to hurt. _A lot_," I explained to him, trying to soothe my shaky voice. His concerned look wasn't helping. All I wanted to do was break down in his arms. He would surely take me home then. Take me home to die in peace. We would spend the rest of my days just laying around my apartment, watching the sun rise and set. Counting the days I had left. Counting the days _we _had left. It all seemed so comforting… NO. No, I would not give up on myself. I was going to face the pain of cancer treatment. I was going to be brave. I was going to stick it out if not for myself, then for my partner. I couldn't even begin to imagine what would become of him if I died. It would be the same for me. We were too connected to each other. We had too close of a bond. If one of us died, surely the other would not be long to follow.

Thinking of Mulder's death, not my own, brought more tears to my eyes, but I didn't realize they were falling until he started wiping them away with his thumb. I tried to blink them back. Mulder understood and didn't smother me. Instead, he silently kissed the side of my head and reached for my hand. I met him halfway, and our grips were strong on each other.

"Are you ready, Miss Scully?" Wendy asked. She was done prepping the tube and cleaning my exposed arm. I nodded again.

"Okay, here we go…" she said. Even though I wasn't watching her, I could sense her hesitation. Wendy didn't like doing this as much as I didn't like this being done to me. Plus, the fact that I was a doctor most likely intimidated her. She didn't want to make a mistake with a doctor.

The cold needle made its way into the vein in my arm, followed by the tube. The tears I had held at bay came crashing down onto my cheeks, and I let out a cry of pain.

"God!" I shouted, arching my back. Mulder held onto me carefully around the waist. He was trying to remain calm and stay strong for me, but his firm grip on my abdomen told me he was feeling otherwise. After all, I was the doctor. I knew what to expect.

After my thoughts of Mulder's body language, I periodically blacked out everything except for the pain. Wendy had started to move the tube in, and it was passing through the area of my arm that the blood pressure cuff was strapped around. It felt like I was getting shot and stabbed at the same time. Slowly. Wendy went very slowly. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. There could be no worse pain than this. I would never be able to overcome this.

"All done, Miss Scully," Wendy said a moment later. She was finished, and was hooking up a drip to the catheter. The start of my treatment was in a small bag hooked up to my arm. Inside the bag was some mixture of chemicals and elements and toxins that no normal person would be able to spell without years of training. The shooting pain in my arm went away once she stopped moving the tube, but it was replaced by that warm sensation that only occurs when you are either being given liquids or are having liquids taken from you. I heaved out a heavy sigh of relief. The pain was over… until they had to take it out. I was seriously doubting that I could endure that pain every weekend.

"How are you feeling, Dr. Scully?" Dr. Hill asked. She was the most experienced chemotherapy technologist the hospital had on staff.

"Umm, I think I need to lay down," I said truthfully. Mulder loosened his grip and started to fix up my bed. Then, he helped me lay down without moving my arm too much. He covered me and kissed my forehead. He had tears in his eyes and stains on his cheeks.

"That's always the worst part," Dr. Hill smiled. She was a typical doctor… tall, brown wavy hair, fake smile, piercing eyes. The kind of doctor they train you to be.

"Let's hope," I said quietly. Mulder gave me a look that told me I had read his mind.

"I'm going to give you this anti-nausea medication. You'll be on a _liquids only _diet for the next 24 hours while this drips. Make sure to consume plenty of fluids. These drugs can have potentially dangerous side-effects if filtered through the body undiluted. Soon, you will begin to feel different, almost dizzy and clouded. That is just your body's reaction to the medication, and we are going to give you a sedative right now to ease you up and make it easier to sleep. Also, by administering the sedative, we hope that you can sleep through the initial nauseousness. Once you get through that, you won't really feel anything like it again until we see you for treatment tomorrow and the second wave comes. That might be a little more intense, but we'll clear that hurdle when we come to it. Okay?" Dr. Hill talked to me like I was a child, but there was nothing I could really do about it. Besides, after having the catheter put in, I was glad they were going to give me something that would help me go to sleep. I wanted to escape it all already.

"Mulder?" I asked as Dr. Hill put a butterfly needle in my other arm and hooked up a second I.V. with the sedative. It must have had morphine properties, because it hit me like a punch, and I immediately felt heavy and lethargic.

"Yes?" he asked, kneeling down toward me. Dr. Hill and Wendy left the room after writing things down on my chart and sticking it on the door.

"Don't leave, okay?"

"I won't leave, Scully. I'll never leave you."

After that, we laced our fingers together and I drifted off into a deep sleep.

* * *

**i do believe i am the first x-files author to post something in 2009. woohoo!!!!!! hope you guys like. i think i spooned out 3 chapters today, but it was worth it. sorry if it made some of you cringe. i cried myself remembering it all.**


	6. Chapter 6

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

_

* * *

_

_White lights. Somebody is touching me with their cold hands. I want them to stop, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Even if I could tell them to stop, they won't. I am nothing to them but a lab rat. I want them to stop, but I don't know what will happen when they do. At least I know I am alive now; that I serve a purpose. When they are done with me, then what? Will they throw me out? Discard me like a useless object rather than a person? This thought scares me so much that I can't possibly let them continue. I have to get out of my own accord because they might not have the intention of letting me live. That is when I muster all of my strength to just move my right arm. A shooting pain. Left arm. Another. Something is holding me back. More men are touching me now. They are saying something, but I can't make out what it is. There is a fog around my brain. No matter how hard I try to understand, I can't. So I call for someone. Anyone, the first name to leave my lips. I don't know who I called. Maybe my mother. Possibly Ahab. No, it wasn't them. I called for somebody who I was sure could hear me. I called for that one person that could pick my voice out of the crowd… listen to it even though we were miles apart._

"Mulder!" I screamed, jerking my body back and forth as I came out of my drug-induced sleep. My dream started to lift. I fluttered my eyes open when I felt a hand clasp mine. _Deep breaths, Dana. It was just a dream._ The first thing I see when I come to is Mulder, eyes filled with concern, holding onto my hand for dear life. Who's dear life, I do not know.

"It's okay, Scully, I'm right here," he assured me. Whether it was his presence or my own fear of being seen as vulnerable that calmed me down was a mystery. A combination of the two, quite possibly. I sat up and fixed my hair with the one hand Mulder did not have. He refused to let go of the other.

"I… it was just a dream," I said, still flustered.

"Are you okay?" he asked, relaxing himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was just a dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I said abruptly, the very thought of talking about it sounding absurd.

"Are you sure?" Mulder eased back into the question.

"Yeah. Umm, how long was I asleep?" I changed the subject.

"About six hours," Mulder rested his elbows on my bed.

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"No. I didn't want to leave and you wake up." I considered this. Usually, I would have hated Mulder for doting over me. I didn't hate him this time. He made me feel like somebody really cared. He did really care. He put me first. It almost brought tears to my eyes, but the last thing I needed to do was cry.

"Go get something to eat. I'll order up here for myself," I told him, running my hand along his jaw. He hadn't shaved since he first showed up at my apartment all those days ago. The five-o'-clock shadow he now sported made him look dignified and wise. From a different viewpoint, though, it made him look tired and worried.

"No, I'll order something for both of us and have them bring it up here."

"Mulder, you need to get up. You need to get out of here. Walk around. You've been sitting in that chair ever since we got here. I don't want to tie you down."

"You're not tying me down, Scully. I choose to stay here with you. I don't want to leave and have something bad happen to you." That was possibly the sweetest thing any man had ever said to me.

"Please, Mulder. I'll be fine. Bad things aren't going to happen to me because you aren't around--"

"They do, though! They do all the time! You were alone when you were abducted by Duane Barry, you were alone when that Schnauz guy took you… Donnie Pfaster."

By this time tears were running down Mulder's face. I tried brushing them away with my thumb. They were falling too fast, though. Finally, I give up trying to keep him from crying and lay his head on my stomach. He buried his face in me.

"Mulder," I started, getting a bit teary-eyed myself but not crying, "you know you don't have to protect me. I can take care of myself. Just because you leave doesn't mean that bad things are going to happen to me."

"That's why I haven't left you at all since you told me. I know you can take care of yourself, but you have cancer now. Sooner or later, it's going to get hard. I want to be there when it gets tough. I don't want to leave because you might need me."

"I need you, Mulder," I made him face me. I smiled and put my hand in his hair when his eyes met mine. "I need you like I need air. You're so much more than a partner. You're my best friend. You've surprised me so much. When I walked into your office that day, I thought you hated me. I thought you would do everything to get rid of me so that you could be by yourself. But you didn't, Mulder. You stuck with me and you let me in, even though I don't believe the same things you do. We're so different, but I cherish this relationship we have more than anything. I need you, but I also need you to accept the things that you cannot change."

We stared into each others' eyes for a moment after that. There was no need for words. We were able to communicate everything just by looking at each other. He told me he wished it had been him. I told him I couldn't handle that. He told me he was sorry. I told him it was not his fault. He told me he loved me. I told him I loved him back. Then he kissed my hand and left the room to go get something to eat, knowing that I would be fine when he got back.

* * *

"Hi, could you tell me where I could find _Dana Scully_?" somebody asked in an incredibly low voice. I looked up from the hospital jell-o I had been eating. There was a giant teddy bear in the door way being held up by somebody who had shoes that were suspiciously similar to Mulder's.

"Oh my God," I laughed as I covered my face with my hand. Mulder smiled over the stuffed animal's shoulder and walked in.

"Is this her? No, it can't be her. This woman's too pretty," the bear said.

"You're saying Dana Scully isn't pretty?" I asked, feigning offense.

"I've never met her before," the bear defended himself, "I think she's a doctor and an F.B.I. agent. If she were as pretty as you, shouldn't she be a supermodel?"

"Dana Scully's a little on the short side," I laughed. Mulder set the bear at the end of the bed and took a seat in his usual spot. Somehow, our hands found each other again.

"I think Dana Scully is the perfect size," he whispered in my ear in his bear voice. I couldn't prevent a shiver from running down my spine.

"Mulder, what is that thing?" I asked.

"That, my dear friend, is a bear. It reigns from the well known Teddius family that are most commonly found in northern Pennsylvania. It primarily eats--"

"Where did you get it?"

"The gift shop. I went in to look around and this bear just screamed your name."

"It did?"

"Oh yeah, it forced me to buy it. He wants you."

"Mulder… it's a stuffed animal."

"Hmmm, maybe it's an X-file."

"I knew you wouldn't be able to keep from talking about work for long."

"I'm sorry… there will be no talk of work from here on out."

"Really? Because I was thinking--"

"Say no more, Scully. If you do, I may not be able to control myself."

"What? Why?"

"I am not bringing our work here. Our work is what got you here in the first place. When you are all better, we will go back to work and back to what we do, but for now… just rest, okay?"

"You're starting to sound like my mother."

"That's right. Except I won't call myself Fox."

"Okay Fox."

* * *

**short and sweet. review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

_this chapter also contains some gruesome details. sorry guys, but it's the truth... cancer is not pretty. you have been warned._

* * *

"See right there, Scully, that guy is the tight end. Now, some people just think of him as a back-up receiver, but he actually has a different job than the rest of the offensive line. See how he has a slightly different build? That's because he can also be used for defense. Do you understand? He could also be a blocker," Mulder tried to explain football to me. Surprisingly, I was actually paying attention. I didn't mind sports all that much, my knowledge being cut down to what I remembered from when Bill and Charlie played as kids. To me, football was barbaric. To Mulder, football was a religion.

It was going on 8:30. It was dark outside and the stars twinkled brilliantly. Like little jewels in the sky. Mulder and I had gotten bored with playing cards after lunch and since I was still on the chemo drip, I couldn't do much. He went back down to the gift shop and bought _Scrabble_ and we played until I got tired of him letting me win. I had always enjoyed playing _Scrabble_ with Mulder because he was about as worthy an adversary as I could find, but he seemed preoccupied. He wasn't thinking about the game. I didn't ask him about it. After his display earlier, I figured there were things he needed to work out inside himself concerning my disease.

"_Scully, I know you don't really like football, but there's a Patriots game on now and I was kinda wondering…"_ he had hinted after we finished dinner.

"_Turn on the game, Mulder. I expect to know what's going on, though,"_ I had told him.

"_You want me to tell you everything that's going on?"_ Mulder then asked in disbelief.

"_Yeah. Teach me everything you know about football. I'm all ears,"_ I said. The look on Mulder's face was priceless. I wished that I had a camera. After the initial shock of it all, though, Mulder saw that I was serious. So, he proceeded to explain the game of football to me.

* * *

At first he was sitting in his chair. Then, the Patriots scored a touchdown, and after he was done dancing around, he landed on the edge of my bed. By the time they had succeeded in scoring the two-point conversion, he had scooted closer to me. When I had a hard time knowing exactly which player he was talking about, I moved over and we sat shoulder to shoulder on the bed. Then, a nurse came in to do a push through the catheter, and I ended up in between Mulder's legs, cradled against his chest.

"Why does he need to be on defense? Don't they have defenders?" I asked, not entirely certain of the game just yet.

"Those guys on the other team are playing defense right now. They're trying to make sure that the offense, the Patriots right now, don't move the ball forward. The guys in the front line of the offense are trying to make sure that the defense doesn't get to the quarterback and sack him. Their called blockers. They're like the defense of the offense. Sometimes, the plays don't go as planned and everyone that was supposed to catch the ball after the quarterback threw it is covered. But, since the other team doesn't know whether the tight end is going to be a blocker or receiver, the tight end usually doesn't get worried about that often. The quarterback just sneaks the ball to him and--"

"Am I interrupting something?" a voice at the door asked. I didn't realize how close Mulder and I actually were until we whipped out heads around at the same time and I noticed my hair hit him in the face. The person at the door was Andrew.

"No, nothing," I smiled, knowing Mulder was turning red behind me, "come in."

"I just wanted to check up on my patient."

"I'm doing alright," I said, figuring I was doing as alright as anybody who had to go through chemotherapy.

"No nauseousness or anything?"

"Not really. Not yet."

"Good, good. That's great. Ummm, I was just wondering, Dana, if it's okay with you… could we up the methotrexate push we were going to give you tomorrow to tonight?"

This news hit me like a brick to the head. I remembered methotrexate as a common drug used for chemotherapy. I also remembered that it had a rather painful way of being administered.

"A methotrexate push? Tonight?" I asked, wondering if I had heard wrong.

"Yeah. I know it's a lot to go through in one day, I just think if you respond to everything well enough, we can eliminate unnecessary waiting. I know you want to be home as soon as you can." I nodded slowly. I had been dreading the methotrexate push. They stick a needle in your back and pushed in the drugs. It would help my bone marrow to stay healthy so the cancer wouldn't spread. But it would hurt like hell.

"Scully?" Mulder whispered, bending his knee to give us some sort of privacy.

"We're going to do this," I told him, not even bothering to think twice. If I thought about it, I wouldn't want to have it done. It was best not to think about the upcoming pain.

"Your heart nearly stopped when he said 'methotrexate push.' Tell me what that is."

"It's a push, like the one I had today through the I.V."

"No it's not, because nobody came in and talked to you about that one."

"Well, no, it's not _exactly_ like the one I had today."

"What's different?"

"Well, it's uh… the needle is inserted in the small of the back." Mulder's eyes got wide and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Breathe, Mulder," I had to tell him.

"You're going to have that done now?" he asked in the same tone he had when he asked if I really wanted to know about football.

"Might as well get over it," I told him.

"But Scully…"

"You don't have to watch, Mulder. I know you hate leaving me, but if this is going to make you sick or hurt you, then don't watch. I'll be fine."

"Oh no, Scully. You're going to need somebody."

"Really, Mulder, I'll be okay."

"I'm staying with you."

"Then I guess we're doing this."

"You're sure?"

"I'm going to have to have it done whether I like it or not."

"We could just go back to watching the game. He's giving you a choice."

"Then I'd just be dreading it. No, we're going to do it tonight," I put emphasis on the last part so that Andrew would hear. He had been leaning against a cabinet of medical supplies while Mulder and I were talking, but he jumped when he realized that I was talking to him.

"Great, that's what I thought you'd say. We'll get you prepped soon, and you should be ready to go in no time," he said, writing something on my chart and leaving the room. Soon, nurses and technicians would be in here sterilizing their needles and me. This was going to exceed the pain of the catheter insertion tenfold. And Mulder was going to have to sit in his chair. I had come to like sitting like we were. It made me feel so close to him. I didn't want to think about what was _going to _happen, though, so I focused on what _was_ happening. I leaned my side into my partner. He wrapped his arms around me.

"I didn't know that cancer treatment was so painful," he said, kissing the top of my head. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of him being around me. With my good arm, I clutched his.

"I'll be fine. It's something I have to do."

"I wish I could take your place."

"No, that would kill me."

"What do you think it's doing to me?"

"Mulder, I'm so uptight and shut off sometimes. You bring me back. I don't think I could maintain myself if you got sick. I would certainly go crazy. You--"

"I am already there."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Shhhh, here come the soldiers," he mumbled into my hair as the nurses and techs came in with their carts and tools and gloves. I believe I gulped at the sight.

"Hi Dana," Dr. Hill greeted as she walked in behind them. I looked up at Mulder, who's expression had gone blank.

"Hi Dr. Hill," I said in an almost shy way.

"We're going to do the methotrexate push, okay? Your partner might want to leave," she assumed. I could now feel Mulder's determined face light up.

"No. I'm staying here," he said with a purpose. In my mind, Dr. Hill was knocked over with his words.

"Very well, then. I'm going to have to ask you to leave the bed, though. And Dana, please lay on your side." I knew Mulder was reluctant to leave me. He gently rocked me and kissed my cheek.

"You can squeeze my hand as hard as you want," he whispered in my ear.

"I might take that as a personal challenge," I joked. One more kiss on the cheek and he slid out from under me. His absence from my bed felt as to me as an absence from my room. I had become addicted to the feel of him. I wanted more and thought I would probably never be able to get enough. When I settled myself on my side, though, he was right there, and he pushed my hair back.

"It'll be okay," he said more to himself than to me.

"Yeah, try saying that when your hand is in a cast."

"Will you sign my cast?"

"Maybe." I loved our banter.

I jumped when something cold touched my lower back.

"Sorry," said one of the lowly nurses. How dare they touch my back! That was Mulder's spot! His hand went there! That piece of me belonged solely to one Fox Mulder… well, maybe not just that one piece.

"Okay, Dana, are you ready?" Dr. Hill asked.

"Yeah, I think I'm ready."

"You can't see us, but we'll tell you when then needle is about to go in, okay?"

"Alright."

"Good. The needle's ready. It's--"

"Ahhhh!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I was right about the pain being worse. The needle ripped through me as they pushed it down to my hipbone. Without realizing it, I squirmed to get away… which forced some of the techs to try and hold me down.

"Shhhh, Scully, it'll be over soon. Don't squirm," Mulder whispered into my clenched fist. I was too far gone to listen to him, though. Tears started streaming down my cheeks, washing away Mulder's kisses. I wasn't breathing. I wasn't seeing clearly.

"You're doing really well, Dana, it's time for the methotrexate now," Dr. Hill assured. I was surprised I heard her.

The methotrexate felt like a punch that didn't subside until all the serum was pushed inside of me. I don't know exactly when I started blurting out stuff, but pain makes you do abnormal things.

"Mulder! Don't leave! Stay here… I'm not strong enough to do this on my own. Don't ever leave me, Mulder. I love you!" I shouted. He blanked out for a second, and even though I was still in terrible pain, I realized the weight of what I had just said. We had communicated our love in many ways, but verbally was not one of them. If we actually said it did that mean something was expected of us? What kind of love were we talking about? Did I really love Mulder either way? My thoughts started to ramble and I started to cry not out of the pain in my lower back, but with the fear that I had just ruined the best relationship I had ever had with somebody.

"I'm not leaving, Scully," Mulder told me quietly. That was all. No _I love you too_, or anything like that. Of course I knew he wasn't leaving! He knew what I needed to hear at that point, but he didn't say anything but that. I had to take my eyes off him. Otherwise I would have definitely said something even stupider.

A sharp pain exploded through my lower half and I was told that the needle was out. I still couldn't move, though, and remembered from med school that I wouldn't be able to walk for about a half hour. Within a minute, a wave of nauseousness hit me square in the stomach.

"Mulder," I asked for him, even though things were most likely awkward between us.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Get the bowl. I'm going to be sick."

If it weren't for Mulder's fast reflexes, I would have thrown up all over the floor. But he handed me the small hospital-issued plastic container specifically designed to throw up in just in time. I emptied everything I had in my stomach in there, then another wave hit and I threw up nothing but water.

"Is this normal?" I heard Mulder ask the nurses, who were cleaning up and not really worried about my sudden onset of vomiting.

"Yeah. She'll be sick for a few minutes. It's her reaction to the methotrexate," somebody said.

"Is there anything we could do for her? Anti-nausea drugs, stuff like that?"

"No. Anything we give her now might counter the methotrexate. We'll give her something in an hour if she seems to be doing better."

"What would she need medicine for if she were doing better?" Mulder asked in a completely DUH voice that had I not been puking, I would have laughed at. The nurse just shrugged, bandaged me, and left the room.

"Mulder," I said between heaves.

"Yeah?"

"I'm… sorry."

"Shhhh, here, let me hold your hair," he said, gathering my red locks in his hands, brushing the side of my face intentionally. I threw up so much that it hurt my chest. I don't think I had ever felt that horrible in my entire life. My back hurt from the procedure, my head hurt from beating myself up over what I said to Mulder, my hand hurt from squeezing, my throat hurt from the acid, my face was cold because of my dried tears, and my heart hurt because of what Mulder didn't say. He slid back into bed, holding my hair, facing me, he put his hand on my neck.

"It'll be alright. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," I felt like he was mocking me, even though I know it was probably physically impossible for him to do so. I continued to heave and cry and spit and snot. No wonder Mulder didn't love me back. I acted so strong and composed, but when it really came down to it, I had a hard time dealing with things. How could anybody love me? How did my own mother even love me?

"And Scully?" he got my attention.

"What is it?" I asked, sounding mad at him. Really, I was mad at myself.

"I love you too." And I knew what type of love it was.

* * *

**there... mulder and scully said the L word. lol. anyway... hope you guys like! reviews would make me happy :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

* * *

There were no explosions. No fireworks. No band or show of any kind. Just four simple words. And a kiss to the forehead as a way of sealing the deal. That was how I knew Mulder loved me back. That was how I knew I would never be alone again. That was how I knew that we were partners, in every sense of the word. There were so many things I could have done at that moment. I could have cried. I could have laughed. I could have exploded with happiness and relief. Instead, I lay my head on his chest and closed my eyes. Nothing further was exchanged between us that night. There wasn't anything either of us could have done to make that moment any more perfect. So we didn't try.

* * *

"_Mulder… protect me," dream-me said, obviously distressed. I wasn't dressed. Only a robe over my underwear and bra. A red robe. And my hair was down. And Mulder was there, holding a candle._

"_Scully, we're on assignment," dream-Mulder said. I didn't seem to care. I reached up as high as I could on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. We weren't anywhere particularly familiar. A run-down motel, I could guess, from our surroundings. Then it hit me. Bellefleur. Our first case. I remembered going to Mulder after finding some marks on my back. The candle? The power had gone out. Mulder had told me that the marks weren't anything to worry about. Mosquito bites. I remembered that I was so afraid that night, though. I had never witnessed so many events that couldn't be explained. I had never been given reason to believe in anything paranormal before, but I could not doubt that something weird was going on. My job was to provide a scientific explanation to Agent Mulder's work. But the things I had seen on that case science couldn't even begin to explain. I didn't even know where to start. _

_But that was not what happened, though, after Mulder told me that the bumps were only mosquito bites. I had admittedly flung myself at him. The stress of the situation was starting to catch up with me. Mulder had been a complete gentleman, however, asking me if I was alright and inviting me to sit down. Then we had talked, and he told me about his sister. We never kissed, and I certainly hadn't initiated anything like that. I had never asked Mulder to protect me._

"_I don't care, Mulder. I need this," dream-me said. There was lust in my voice and my pupils were dilated. Dream-Mulder set down the candle and slid the robe off my shoulders. He teased me by kissing my neck and collarbone. I ran my fingers through his hair, that being the only thing that was keeping me from ripping him apart with desire. Then, our lips met in a heated frenzy. Our tongues battled for control as we granted access to each others' mouths. Then Mulder picked me up and throw me on that cheap motel bed. We proceeded to make passionate love. As we reached our peaks, there was a flash of light, and suddenly I was somewhere else. Somewhen else, too._

_A cemetery. A funeral, I guessed… everyone was in black. It wasn't just any old funeral, though, my family and friends were there. Mulder was there. I wasn't there, though. Bill picked up a shovel and threw the first scoop of dirt into an open grave. Mom and Melissa were crying, with Charlie trying to console them. Mulder's face was as hard as stone. It looked as if he couldn't feel anything. Everyone bowed their heads as the priest said a few words, then they left, even my family. Only Mulder was left, holding a single white rose. He placed it on the tombstone beside the open grave. The tombstone read, "Dana Scully, 1964-1994, beloved wife and daughter."_

_Another flash of light and I saw a room. An F.B.I. interrogation room. Mulder was there, looking just as emotionless as he did at my funeral. He was sitting at one side of a table, and on the other side sat Duane Barry._

"_All the F.B.I. is asking is for your cooperation with our investigation. Now, you say these… beings… they take you and perform tests. Where do they take you?" Mulder asked._

"_I don't know where they take me!" the sweating man yelled._

"_You do know where they take you!" Mulder yelled back._

"_They take me on their ship!" Duane Barry broke down._

"_Why didn't they take you this time?"_

"_They took somebody else. They told me to bring somebody else."_

"_Who told you to bring somebody else?"_

"_The men… the men that come after they return me."_

"_Who are these men?" "I don't know! They wear black and they smoke cigarettes."_

"_Who did they tell you to take?"_

"_Agent Dana Mulder."_

"_Why did they tell you to take her?"_

"_They said that if I took her to them, they wouldn't take me."_

"_Why did you take her?"_

"_I didn't want to go!"_

"_You son of a bitch! Why did you take her? These men didn't give you a reason, they just said to take her? Why did you listen? Why didn't you think of her?"_

"_I didn't want to go!"_

"_You killed her! You let her die, you bastard! You let them take her to die! You let them kill Dana! You let them kill my wife!" Mulder screamed, beat red in the face. Duane Barry was about to say something when Mulder gun-checked him on the side of the face. Barry flew from his seat, but Mulder was relentless. He dove after him and proceeded to beat him in several ways. Then, after the man was bleeding and unconscious on the floor, Mulder put the gun to his head…_

* * *

**this is all a dream, obviously. scully had a dream about what would have happened if she and mulder had become a couple sooner. it's a weird concept, but i like this chapter :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

* * *

"NO! Mulder, don't!" I was shouting when Mulder shook me awake. I was sweating and my breathing was short, and I struggled my way up Mulder's chest when I realized that he was there, holding me.

"Scully, relax, you're having another bad dream," he cooed when I buried my face into his shoulder and started sobbing. He kissed the side of my head, around my ear. He kissed the fingers of my bad arm, the one that I could not wrap around his neck. He mindlessly rubbed over the area where the needle had gone in the small of my back, all trying to calm me down. My mind was fighting me, telling me to pull away otherwise Mulder would see that I couldn't do this. The other half of me let me stay nestled into him, crying because what I had dreamt I couldn't possibly live through. Well, it looked like I didn't, anyway.

"Shhhh, Scully, I want you to tell me what you keep dreaming about. I want you to tell me because if you don't, they won't stop. They'll only get worse. Tell me, please."

"I can't, Mulder. It's too…" I couldn't finish.

"You have to tell someone. And you woke up screaming my name again."

"You'd think it was weird if I told you."

"Scully, you haven't heard weird. Wait until I tell you about one of my dreams." That got a smile out of me, and I decided that he was right. If I didn't tell him, the dreams would continue. And if I woke up screaming his name every night, then he probably _would_ think there was something seriously wrong with me. I waited to calm down, though.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, "the dream I had last night I believe was about my abduction. That's not a new dream. I have those every now and then, ever since I got the chip taken out of my neck," I explained. At that, Mulder closed his eyes in pain, hurting because they were so normal for me. I put my good hand on his cheek. I didn't want to think about his reaction to the dream I had just had.

"Go ahead, Scully, I'm okay," he told me, putting his hand over mine.

"The dream I had just now…. I've never had that dream before. It started when we were on our first case, when I came into your room because of the mosquito bites on my back," he nodded, "but then something strange happened and I kissed you, and we… on the bed, you know?" this caused his eyebrows to go up, and I hit him softly.

"Then there was a flash and we were at my funeral," I said quickly. That news hit him like a ton of bricks, and he began to gently stoke my fingers. Tears started welling up in my eyes at the thought of what I had to tell him next.

"You put a rose on my tombstone, Mulder. Then there was another flash and you were interrogating Duane Barry. You were both yelling and you asked him what happened and why did he take me to them. You yelled that he let your wife die…"

"You?"

"Yeah, I was your wife," I told him, a far tear of mine plopping itself on Mulder's chest. He didn't seem to notice.

"Then what happened?" he asked. I didn't want to tell him anymore.

"Then… you beat him up. I don't know if you killed him, Mulder, but he wasn't moving. You were both on the floor, then… Mulder… you shot yourself."

Mulder pulled me as close to him as he could, and we cried once more. I hated what this was doing to me. The treatments and the added stress of being so sick were giving me horrible dreams. _From now on_, I told myself, _I will not tell Mulder about my dreams._

"I'm sorry," he muttered to me.

"Why are you apologizing?" I asked.

"Because I know you will."

"Yeah… it's my dream."

"But your dreams are not your fault."

"They certainly aren't your's."

"Scully, dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask. I'm just sorry that your answer ended up with you dying and me killing myself over you. I'd love to tell you that it's only a dream, Scully, but I can't promise that if you died… that I wouldn't want to die," he was whispering by the end, his voice thick with emotions.

"No, Mulder," I hit his chest in anger. He didn't seem to notice, so I hit him again. And again. And again. He didn't react to any of them. Was I dreaming again? Couldn't he feel what I was doing to him?

"I'm sorry," he said to me one last time. Instead of hitting him again, I hoisted myself up closer to his face and put our foreheads together.

"Mulder, the only way that I would be able to let go of this life would be if I knew you weren't going to give up afterwards. I couldn't leave without knowing that you'd be okay. Now I know you won't be okay, Mulder, but I have to face death now. I have to be prepared and count my blessings and live every moment for what it's worth and all that shit. I hate it, but if I have to do it, I need to know that you'll hold on. I need that comfort, otherwise I'll never be able to go. And what if I'm supposed to go, but I can't, and I miss my time? What will happen then, Mulder? What will happen to me if I can't let go?"

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. It wasn't something he could change in one night. It would take time, hard work, and simple faith to be able to tell me that he would go on if I could not. I didn't need him to change right then. I just needed to know that he would later.

"I won't let you miss your time, Scully," he kissed my nose, "I would never do that." What Mulder did next was definitely not out of the realm of possible outcomes of our conversation, but I wasn't expecting it. He gripped the back of my head, tilted it upwards, and kissed my lips long and passionately. We stayed, shocked, for a minute. No matter how much we unknowingly loved each other, this was a new thing for us. I ran my tongue over his bottom lip. I loved the way he tasted. Like sunflower seeds and something distinctly Mulder that I couldn't identify. I don't know what he tasted in me, but he found it so appealing that he bit down. Within seconds we were devouring each other, mapping out each other, discovering things that we had never thought we would.

"Scullyyyy," he moaned as I pulled away for air. I let him hold me and kiss the back of my neck lovingly. My only response to him was trying to bury myself so deep in him that we could never be separated. I inhaled is scent and he inhaled mine and we both sighed the same, smelling not smells but feelings. Warmth. Comfort. Security. Home. Who would have thought that the undeniable proof of Mulder's love for me lie in his smell? Who would have thought that it lie in mine?

"I love you," he said softly.

"Do you think we can handle this?" I asked.

"I hope so. Because I don't think I could ever stop loving you."

"Me neither."

"I won't."

"Won't what?"

"Stop loving you. Ever. You are my world."

"You are mine."

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Mulder shook his head.

"Something that we've only just been prepared for. Maybe that was why I had my dream."

"What are you saying?"

"I was wondering why we waited so long. Why, after four years of nothing but each other, did we finally decide to say, 'I love you?' Why didn't we say it sooner? Maybe my dream told me what would have happened. I don't think we were ready for it then. My dreams are trying to tell me that I didn't waste my time being friends with you."

"That was the question you couldn't ask…" he finished.

"Exactly."

"I hope we're ready now. I'm past the point of no return."

"We're ready, Mulder. I can feel it."

"I feel something, Scully, and it's the greatest feeling in the world."

"I know how you feel."


	10. Chapter 10

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

* * *

"Scully, are you sure you don't want me to get you some water or something?" Mulder called from the other side of the bathroom door. I had locked myself in there. It had been a few days since I got home from the hospital, and I thought I was doing fine. Then, all of a sudden, once I start taking these new meds the doctor says are going to help my body react to the treatment, it all goes down the drain. I throw up constantly and the very thought of food makes me sick. My total energy level is about zero. My strength leaves, and with it my willpower. I had let Mulder stay with me ever since this all started. Not like he had left my side for any real amount of time anyway.

"No, it's alright. I'll be fine, Mulder," I say through tears, knowing I should let my guard down and collapse into him. I want to. He wants me to. But I can't. I try to hold on to every last ounce of pre-cancer Scully that I can. She is slipping away, though. Mulder opens the bathroom door and as he walks closer to me, I can feel her leave me. I am crying and can't see through the tears. Standing up suddenly becomes hard work. He catches me when I fall to the floor, knowing that he can't cry. He does anyway. He has never been as strong as me. He has never felt the need to be. Maybe he thought he would lead by example. I am just thankful when he wraps his arms around me. I am so cold. I never want to be out of his arms, out of his reach, ever again.

"Scully," he says in a fuzzy tone as he presses a kiss to my cheek. _Something isn't right_, I can feel from him. He puts his lips to my forehead and lets them linger.

"You have a fever, Sweetie," he says. The term of endearment is not lost on me, even in this state. We started that before we left the hospital. At first, we weren't exactly sure how pet names were going to work out. But how sure had we really been of anything? So we decided, pet names weren't necessary. Calling each other by our last names could even be considered by some endearment enough. And absolutely not, under any circumstances, were we going to become one of _those _couples. The kind that wear the matching sweaters and call each other stupid, long names like "Honey Pumpkin Muffin Head" or "Mr. Snuggly-Poo." The kind that are annoying to be around no matter where you are. No. Mulder and I would never be one of _those _couples.

I move into him, trying as hard as I can to get lost in his body. It would not be a bad place to get lost.

"How high?" I ask, mutter actually. My mouth is dry, but I know that is a side-effect of chemotherapy.

"It's high enough. We have to get you to the hospital," he tells me, rubbing his hands over my arms. I don't want him to be right, but he is. Fevers, in and of themselves, are generally nothing to get excited about. Fever means infection, though, and in cancer patients, chemotherapy means a decreased ability to fight off infections.

"Call them," I struggle to say, "and I'll go get some things packed."

"Oh no. I'll call them on the way. There's no time to pack and I'm not leaving you alone," he says as he cradles me gently. Then he stands up, and the rest of the night is a blur.

* * *

Beeping. A good sign. There is surely no incessant beeping in Heaven. I don't know, though, where I am because I have not opened my eyes. When I do, the first thing I see is Mulder resting his head against my arm. He's not awake. Even though his face is away from me, I can tell by his breathing. I want to ruffle his hair. I want to kiss him and let him know that I am okay. But I don't want to wake him up. Even though if he knew I were up, he would open his eyes immediately, I let him sleep. He deserves it. He was scared.

Something wasn't right, though, and I took my eyes off of Mulder to see my mother in the chair on the other side of the bed, doing needlepoint or something. The early morning sun hit her perfectly, and I noticed she looked really good for an middle-aged mother of four who had lost her husband and one of her children not long ago. But I was going to wear her out. Seeing her daughter suffer like I was going to was going to do her in. She felt my yes on her.

"Morning Dana," she said in a normal sense. The normalcy wasn't there, though. She looked at me with concern.

"Hi Mom," I whisper with a sore, dry throat. She took the hand Mulder wasn't clinging to and I was no longer in control of my upper half. Just like she did when I was little and sick, she sat on the edge of my bed and stroked my hair. All of me wanted to go back to those days. Everything was good and fair, government conspiracies were distant impersonal things, and no matter what trouble you got yourself into, Mom was always there to break the fall.

"Hi Baby. How are you feeling?" she asked, whispering as well so Mulder wouldn't wake up.

"What happened, Mom? Was I sick?"

"Yeah. An infection from a cut on your finger. Who would have thought that something small like that would land you in the hospital?" she hung her head.

"It'll be okay, Mom. I'm alright," I tried to assure her.

"You tell me that, Dana, but I don't know what to think. You always tell me that, even when I know things are not okay. I wish you'd stop lying to me and lying to yourself and lying to that poor man right there who loves you to death."

"I'm not lying, Mom. I would never lie to you, or to Mulder. I just… I can't let myself think that way. I can't view myself as weak and vulnerable because that's half the battle right there. I have to _believe _that I will be okay. If I don't believe it, then it'll be almost impossible to get better," I explain, but it's hard because she's tearing up.

"Dana," she started, though sobs, "Lord knows the last thing I want is for you to throw yourself a pity party. I didn't raise you to be like that. And I'm sorry, Sweetheart, if when you were growing up you felt like you couldn't show your emotions to anyone. But you have to accept help from the people who want what's best for you. You can't do everything on your own. Some things are too big for one person. Now, you are a smart girl, Dana, extremely smart, but I'm afraid that the one thing you don't know how to do is accept help or comfort."

I didn't know what to say to that. I had never ever heard my mother apologize for the way one of us turned out. The Scully children were all good, respectable people thanks to her, and I had never felt that she needed to apologize to or for any one of us. I didn't feel that she needed to apologize now. My unwillingness to accept help from anyone was a characteristic of my own. I didn't think I could stress that to her enough.

"Mom… you didn't do anything wrong. I am a strong, independent woman because of you. I just… need to find my own way with this--"

"Scully?" Mulder asked sleepily, waking up to see my mom cupping my face and crying. She dabbed at her eyes, got off the bed, and excused herself to go get a cup of coffee. I knew she wasn't really going to get coffee.

"What was that about?" Mulder started again after my mom had left and shut the door.

"She was worried about me."

"I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I guess I know that. But… I'm still sorry, okay? For scaring you. For scaring my mother. For scaring myself…"

"Okay Baby," Mulder said, kissing my cheek and crawling into bed with me. That is how we stayed for most of the day. His arms wrapped around me protectively. Us not saying much. Because, sometimes, all you can do is apologize. Even if it's not your fault.

* * *

**all i can say is... sorry for the long wait. hope you're still interested :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

* * *

"Are we home for real now?" Mulder asked as he carried me into my apartment, bridal-style. My feet had hardly touched the ground since leaving the hospital. Despite my attempts to persuade Mulder that I could walk on my own perfectly fine, he insisted on carrying me. The weird thing was that I let him.

"Hopefully. New meds, new me," I sighed. He carefully lay me down on the couch in my living room, kissing the top of my head while simultaneously grabbing the blanket off the armrest and covering me with it.

"Good. I want you to get some rest, though, Darlin'."

"I'm really not tired, Mulder."

"You've said that before."

"This time, I mean it. I'm full of… maybe not energy, but I'm definitely not ready to just conk out right here."

Mulder huffed, lifting me up slightly and assuming his position behind me. He rubbed the exposed area of skin where my shirt rode up on my stomach. Between that, his warmth, and the kisses he was pressing into the side of my neck, I was about ready to take back what I just said. Mulder, though, actually listened to me for once.

"Alright. But we are not leaving this apartment, do you understand?"

"Yes Sir!" I played. "In fact, I would be perfectly happy if we just sat here all day."

"You mean that?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," I told him, noting the serious tone our conversation was taking. He sighed and went back to kissing my neck. I closed my eyes and got lost. Lost in his touch. Lost in his kiss. Lost in my own mind. Images of a little blue-eyed girl with brown hair and my nose flashed when I became the most comfortable. They were perfectly fine images, until I remembered something about cancer that I wished I had never learned.

Mulder was surprised when I suddenly sat up in his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting up with me. My breathing had become labored, and I covered my face with my hands. I promised myself that I wouldn't tell Mulder anything more about my dreams. Did my visions count as a dream? Did I really have to tell him what I saw in order for him to understand? Did I have to tell him at all?

I shook my head as tears started to wet my palms. Mulder knew by now not to push me into saying anything. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my middle and rocked us slowly back and forth. I felt his lips move on the upper part of my back, but I never heard him say anything. He wasn't speaking, not to me. Maybe he was, though. Maybe I needed to listen better.

That was not what I wanted to think about at the time, though. I didn't want to think about how unfair it was to string Mulder along on my emotional roller coasters. He gladly boarded with me, right? He knew what this would do to me. To _us_.

"I'm not going to be able to have children!" I blurted out before I could stop myself. The rocking suddenly halted, and his lips didn't move. He was trying to decide how to handle this.

"You don't know that for sure," Mulder said quietly as he turned me part of the way around so he could see my tear-streaked face. I was convinced, though.

"I do! I'm never going to have children. Not with the cancer treatment going like it is. I'll be left infertile. I'll never get to be a mother…"

"Don't talk like that," he cooed into my hair as I collapsed into him, clutching the sleeve of his shirt.

"It's true," I said simply after awhile.

"Scully, you'll be able to be a mom. No matter how you do it, if you want to be a mother badly enough, you'll get to be one. There are things you can do, Scully, even if you are left infertile. There's adoption--"

"I don't want to adopt, Mulder. I want to get pregnant. I want to have a baby growing inside of me. I want to give birth to that baby, even though I know it's painful, I still want to feel that. I want to have a child, Mulder. I want to have _your _child."

I could tell he was slightly taken aback by this confession. He eased his way back into the conversation, though, probably to let me know that he wasn't scared or mad at me for thinking those things so early into our relationship.

"Me? A dad?" he stumbled for words in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into his hands, which I had moved upwards toward my face.

"No… Scully," he tried, but was still at a loss, "that… that makes me so happy."

I was surprised, to say the least, at his reaction. I had never thought of Mulder as a father before, I had just seen the little girl and knew that she could be nobody's child _except _for mine and Mulder's. Her eyes, her nose, her hair, her face. It was like somebody had smashed the two of us together in a small child's body.

"It does?" I could not bring myself to ask him why.

"Yeah. Little babies with you, Scully, what's not to be happy about?"

"I didn't think you'd want to be a dad. You've never mentioned it."

"I have just never found myself in the position. But now that you bring it up… I don't know, Scully. Being a father wouldn't be bad at all. They say it's the most rewarding thing in the world."

"Do you think it would be more rewarding for you than finding Samantha?" I considered his life quest. Of all the things in the world that could be compromised, if Mulder was going to be the a father, he would not be able to work in the field anymore. I would not let him. He would not let himself, after he realized what a danger that would be. Samantha, or a child that may not even be possible?

"I would do whatever I had to do for our child," he said softly. It pained him, I knew it, to talk about giving up on his quest for his sister. I suddenly felt like a horrible person for making him choose so prematurely.

"I'm sorry," I said for the second time that day.

"You apologize way to much, Scully."

"I shouldn't make you choose. That's… unsympathetic of me."

"If the roles were switched, I would ask you the same question. I would expect the same decision. Scully, I will never stop loving my sister. I will never _really _stop looking for her either, not unless I find her. But if we were blessed enough to have a child… then I would do what it takes to keep them safe and keep myself safe for them. And for you."

"I think it would kill me if you gave up. I would never be able to forgive myself if I knew that there was something that could have been done."

"Maybe there's nothing, Scully. Maybe there's nothing that can be done. Maybe everything has already happened. Maybe I've been wasting my time looking for her. And I would feel so unfulfilled if I gave up a chance for a future with you and a child for a past with Sam."

His words sent a new wave of emotion through me. Here was Mulder, _Spooky Mulder_, who had spent every day since that night his sister was taken looking for her. Searching for her. Hoping something would turn up. He had dedicated his life in the hope that he would find her someday. He passed up many promising career choices and was thought of a fool because he never gave up hope that Samantha was still alive and waiting for him to rescue her. Everything he had ever done since he was 12 was for her. And he would give that up for me. And for our child. It took a moment of deep breaths before I calmed down enough to realize that Mulder was crying, too. I put my hand to his face.

"Don't give up looking for her yet," I said, wiping the tears away from his gorgeous cheeks.

"Don't give up on our baby yet," he remarked back.

"I won't," I promised him.

"Because," he started, still crying, "you are going to get better. And once you are in remission we will try so hard to conceive. Even if they tell us we can't, we'll still try. We'll show them all. And then, when our baby is born, we'll show them all. And after that baby is born, we'll have another one. Then we'll have another one. We'll have as many babies as you want… as many babies as we can. We'll never stop, if that's what you want." I laughed at the thought.

"Let's just start out small, okay? You, me, and our baby girl."

"It's going to be a girl?"

"I think it will be. She'll have your hair and my eyes--"

"Hopefully not my nose," Mulder smiled, kissing mine.

"I wouldn't mind if she had your nose," I told him.

"Either way, if she looks anything like you, I'm going to have to beat the boys away with a stick."

"Until one comes along that reminds her of you."

"Yeah. I'd beat that one away with the entire tree."

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**i guess i'm on a writing frenzy now... good for this story because it needed a little attention :) don't worry, i'm still working on the other one. review please! i have a special reward for the 100th review in mind already!**

**so**

**press**

**the**

**button!!!!!!!!!!1 (that was for julia)**


	12. Chapter 12

**disclaimer: i don't own the x-files, christ carter and all his people do... no infringement intended**

* * *

Another month. Four weekend sessions of torture. I started to feel the effects of it all. Eating was hard, but what was harder was what happened later. My mouth became dry; terrible sores appeared. Every pore in my body felt fried and my energy level hadn't gone up any. I had wanted to go back to work, but Mulder wouldn't let me. He wouldn't let himself. We took a joint leave of absence, and they shut down the X-files temporarily. That hurt me in the deepest way, because I knew the answers to all my questions were in there. I fought and fought when Mulder told me that he was leaving to take care of me. I fought and he assured me that he would find the answer… he would find my cure. And I was so tired and sick and overwhelmed at that time that I had no choice but to believe him.

And then it happened.

When the month was up, it began. The thing that would make my cancer the most real.

My hair began to fall out.

It wasn't like I wasn't expecting it and that it happened all at once. It didn't. It began the morning after Mulder and I made love for the first time. I woke up in his arms. I lay in bed just watching him sleep until a wave of nauseousness crashed over me. Mulder woke up and followed me to the bathroom, holding my red locks back as I emptied whatever we had for dinner the night before. When I was done, I moved my head and he let go of my hair… except he didn't let go of all of it. He stood there with the most bemused look on his face as he held two small handfuls of my hair. I couldn't say that I looked any different. We stood there, looking at the hair, until I broke down and found my way into his arms. I don't know if he dropped the hair on the floor, but suddenly it didn't matter anymore.

"It's alright," he told me, "we'll get you a hat. We'll get you a wig. Whatever you need."

"I want my hair," I said in a childlike voice.

"It'll come back," he said like the parent.

Only a little bit more came out after I brushed my hair, but after we finished breakfast we headed straight to the mall and I bought some scarves for my head.

* * *

"How do you like this one?" I asked Mulder, who had been standing in the corner of my bedroom the entire time I modeled my new scarves to him. I expected the same answer he gave me every time, which was _beautiful_. Instead, I got…

"Can we stop doing this now?"

"I guess, Mulder. But I didn't know what you thought of them. You didn't say anything in the store," I said, awkwardly putting the scarves back in the bag. I felt, rather than saw, him look down at his feet in shame.

"I'm sorry, Babe, it's just… this is hard," he told me, coming up from behind me and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"You think it's any easier for me?"

"No, I--"

"But do I get to mope? No. You are not the one losing your hair here, Mulder, I am. You don't have to wear these stupid scarves, I do. You don't have cancer, I do."

He looked down. My eyes bore into the top of his skull. A few seconds of silence before either one of us was brave enough to speak.

"Mulder--" I said finally, huffing out his name.

"I'm sorry, Baby," he interrupted, looking up at me. His eyes were what killed me. His eyes full of tears and sorrow.

"Please don't cry…" I trailed, knowing that if he cried, I would cry. And I had done enough crying since this all started. I took him in my arms and ran my hand along his jawbone.

"I'm still not used to this," he told me, kissing the bottom of my hand as I brought it up.

"Me neither."

"You're right, though, I'm acting like a baby."

"This is all coming up so fast, Mulder. Didn't you know what you were getting into when you said you loved me back? Didn't you know how hard this was going to be?" I had to ask because I was so unsure of everything at this point. I was unsure of his love for me, even though I wanted it to be real more than I wanted anything.

"I had to say it, Scully," he said quietly.

"You _had_ to say it? Why? You didn't want to hurt me? You thought, 'Oh, poor Scully with her cancer… I have to tell her I love her because I don't want to hurt her.' Well guess what, Mulder, this hurts a lot worse than if you would have just walked out of the room!" I screamed, but he pulled me into him. I wanted to stay there, but I didn't. I strained to pull away.

"It's not like that," he whispered to me.

"What is it like, then? What kind of game are you playing with me?"

"Scully… I had to say I love you because I really do love you. I've loved you for a long time, but I never said it because I didn't want it to screw up what we had as partners and friends. And then when you said it… I just knew it had to be right. Because what if our time is running out? I couldn't bear it if you died not knowing how I felt," he confessed, and we shared a long look at each other.

"I feel like we're going in circles, Mulder," I finally say.

"Why is that?"

"Because this past month has been nothing but the same. First one of us is upset. Then we fight. Then we cry. Then we make up and tell each other it's going to be okay. I love that and all, you know, knowing that I have somebody like you there for me. But I just want to retain some normalcy… go back to the way things were."

"I know you do, Baby. I want the same."

"Do you think we could do it?"

"Go back to being the same?"

"Sort of. I mean, I still love you. And what we did last night… I don't want that to stop," we both smirk.

"I think I get it," he smiles, resting his head on top of my own.

"Good," I say into his chest, and we hold each other for a moment before I can feel Mulder get a crazy idea. He takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he fiddles with the stereo on top of my desk.

"Tonight, Baby, you and I are going to be two people, in love," he says, and sensual jazz music fills the air. I know my mouth is open and I have a look of disbelief on my face, but when he pulls me into the kitchen and closes the space between us, I realize that I should follow his lead. He puts his hands around my waist and my hands around his neck. Right there, in the middle of my kitchen, in the middle of the afternoon, Mulder and I danced together. It was one of the most romantic, spontaneous things I could ever remembering a guy doing for me, and I loved it. I relished in it, wondering how on Earth I stayed just friends with this man for four years. Many people had said that there was something between us. We just brushed them off. I knew, though, that they had been right, but we had been right also. Timing meant everything. And we danced that day like we had all the time in the world.

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**review!!! (this chapter was dedicated to julia)**


	13. Chapter 13

**disclaimer: see previous chapters (i'm sick of writing those)**

* * *

A week and it became too much. Mulder was the one to hold my hand while I let the beautician shave the rest of my hair off. Neither of us cried. There had been too much of that. This was about strength, not showing weakness.

"I think you look good," he said as we walked out. I had brought one of the scarves and had it wrapped tightly around my head. Not because it was cold. Maybe I was more vain than I thought.

"Mulder, don't try to flatter me. Not today," I told him, not exactly mad, but pulling away when he tried to take my hand.

"Hey, don't I always tell you that you're beautiful?" he asked.

"Just… not today, alright Mulder? I just want to go home."

"I'm just trying to make you feel better."

"Thanks, but let's just forget about it for now, alright?"

"Fine."

We drove home in perfect silence. "Home" had become my place not for just me, but for Mulder as well. In fact, most of his stuff had accumulated there. Other than to feed his fish and pay his rent, he never went home. And I was okay with that.

"Need help?" he asked when he parked the car, though his Scully-intuition probably told him not to. I would have asked myself the same question, though. Almost a month and a half after starting treatment, I was tired. I was tired of it all.

"No, I'm good," I said, trying to gain enough strength to open the car door. Before I knew it, though, Mulder was there and picking me up in his arms. I didn't object. Something told me that I would be doing more harm than good if I didn't let him.

"Baby, you're freezing," he said when we got to my door. I had my arms locked around his neck and was trying my hardest to suck whatever heat he had out of him and into me. He was right. I was freezing. Especially the place on my neck that my hair used to keep warm. That was the coldest place of all.

"I hate this," I whispered as he lay me down on the couch. He snuggled up behind me and wrapped his arms around my middle.

"I know. I hate this too."

"I thought I'd be able to do this, Mulder. I don't know, though."

"You can do it, Baby. I know you can do it."

"Fine, maybe I can do it. But I don't really know if I want to."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to scare you or anything, but is it really worth fighting it anymore? Look what I have to look forward to if I get better. A barren, cancer-ravaged body. I'll never get to be a mother. I'll never look or feel the same. This will transform me, Mulder. And I don't know if that life is worth fighting for."

"I hope this is the chemo talking, Scully, because I don't understand. You're so beautiful, and you're going to be beautiful no matter what happens to you. And they say that surviving cancer can change your life. You'll have a new attitude about life once you realize how precious it is. And Sweetheart, you'll always have me. Always. That will never change. You will always have me and be able to love me and be able to be loved by me. I hope that you don't want to escape that. I hope that you don't feel that that's something you can so easily give up. Because I know I couldn't."

I had hurt him, I knew. And I wanted to make him better. I hadn't even thought about what effect the things I said would have on him.

"I'm sorry. It probably is the chemo talking. I've had enough."

"I feel so bad asking you to fight harder, because I know you're fighting as hard as you can. I need you to promise me something, though, Baby."

"What is it?"

"I need you to promise me that you'll never give up."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

I sighed. It wasn't just a "that's it." There were times, whether it was in the hospital while I was receiving treatment, or at home dealing with the side-effects, that I wanted to give up. He didn't know what it was like to feel the pain of cancer. But, on the other hand, I didn't know what it was like having somebody I loved tell me they wanted to give up. Mulder never gave up. He didn't give up on Samantha, he wouldn't give up on me. So how could I give up on him?

"I promise, Mulder. I won't ever give up on you."

"Those are the most important words you've ever said to me," he smiled, leaning over me to kiss my lips passionately.

"Even more important than 'I love you'?" I asked when he was done.

"Sweetie, you know nothing is as important as my love for you."

"I'm tired, Mulder. Take me to bed."

"It would be my honor."

* * *

We spent the rest of the day in bed, mostly not sleeping. There was some sleep, but it wasn't as necessary as me showing Mulder how much I loved him. Even with my diseased body, I loved every second. He had the ability to drive me insane… to make me so happy that it hurt. Oddly enough, though, that was not the sweetest thing he did for me that day.

I fell asleep after we finished, and when I woke up, I woke up to the smell of dinner. Actually, my stomach woke me up. I was glad that, for the first time in about two days, I was feeling well enough to eat. I followed my nose into the kitchen.

What I saw there was unbelievable. There were candles and flowers and spaghetti on the table. Mulder was sitting in his usual spot, but he had a baseball cap on his head. In and of itself, that would not have been particularly weird for me, except for it seemed out of place with the mood he had created.

"Mulder," I started, touched.

"I hope you're hungry, Baby, but you don't have to eat if you aren't."

"No, I am. I'm starving actually. Thank you for doing all this," I said, sitting down and receiving a kiss on the hand.

"Nothing but the best," he joked.

"This is lovely, Mulder, but can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Why are you wearing a Yankees hat? I don't think it's baseball season."

"Haha, you're right, it's not," he laughed, looking down at his plate. He was probably stunned that I actually knew that baseball was over for the year.

"Why are you wearing you're hat then?"

"Why can't I wear this hat?"

"You can, it's just… we're having a candle-lit dinner…"

"Do you want me to take off the hat?"

"Yeah, that would be nice."

"Fine, I will."

And he did.

And when he did, I noticed something very different about his head. Mainly, the fact that there was no hair on it.

"Mulder," I gasped, not able to understand why he would have done that. And then it hit me. He did that for me. He shaved his head for me.

"I hope you don't hate it. It's just, I didn't want you to do this alone. This way, I feel somewhat closer to you."

"Mulder," I said again. It was hard for me to process what was going on. Nobody had ever done something like that for me.

"Please tell me you don't hate me for doing this. I can't really un-do it," he said, this time looking genuinely worried about what I would think. Since I still couldn't form a clear sentence, I got up out of my seat and jumped into his arms. It took him back a bit, but I think he was happy with my answer.

"I love you," I finally got out.

"I love you too. I love you so much, it doesn't make sense right now."

"It makes perfect sense. At least to me."

"Well then that's all I care about."

"I can't believe you shaved your head."

"We're going to save a ton on shampoo."

* * *

**sorry about the long wait... i still love you guys! and i'm going to try and update more... please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**disclaimer: not mine, don't sue**

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Mulder asked, taking my hand as we stood outside the J. Edgar Hoover Building. It would be my first day back to work in almost three months.

"It's time to get some normalcy back," I said, though being off hadn't been bad. It hadn't driven me crazy like I thought it would.

"Alright, but remember our deal."

"I only do desk work. I can only work at a desk. Not in the field like you know I want to. Not anywhere outside of the office, really. Just. At. My. Desk," I recited.

"Exactly," he said, and kissed me on the cheek. I really hoped he wouldn't be making a habit of that. Because I was really excited about going back to work, and I didn't need any distractions. Even really nice distractions like kisses on the cheek.

"Alright, then, let's go," I said, taking in a deep breath and holding my head high. Our first stop was Skinner's office. Kimberly smiled and took a good look at me when we got there.

"Ahh, Agent Scully. It's good to see you," she said, not getting up to make any physical contact. I had gotten used to that since being diagnosed. It was like everyone was afraid to break me.

"Uhh, is the Assistant Director in?" Mulder asked, knowing I would hate the small, awkward conversation that was sure to ensue with Skinner's assistant. I breathed a sigh of relief when she nodded her head.

"Go on in, I think he's been expecting you," Kimberly told us, going back to working. Funny how I would be doing something not so different from her job but so different from my own very soon. I didn't want to be anyone's assistant. But it was what Mulder wanted, and it was time for me to make sacrifices for him.

"Good morning agents. Welcome back," Skinner greeted us happily.

"Thank you, Sir," I said. No matter what happened, I would always address him as "Sir." There were just some things I could never quit. Besides, he looked like a "Sir."

"Alright, well, the X-files are reopened. You two go down there and get started on all that you've missed…" he told us, knowing that was the only thing we were interested in at that point.

"We'll see you later," Mulder said, putting his arm around my shoulders to lead me out. But Skinner had something else to say.

"Oh, and Scully…" he said as we were almost to the door.

"Yes Sir?"

"No field work. I'm sorry."

"Oh. It's okay Sir, I'm sure I'll be just as productive around the office."

"Still, I know how hands-on you two are."

"It's really not a problem, Sir, I'm really going to be cutting back on the field work myself," Mulder assured him, taking my hand. I blushed because Skinner hadn't been told about us.

"Well, then. I guess it's for the best. Get down there, you two," he smiled, and we rushed out of there.

"Mulder, you can't do that here!" I exclaimed, trying to sound angry, but really being relieved that he was going to be staying with me.

"Sorry, but I'm not sure I can keep my hands to myself," he joked, grabbing my hips. Other agents were looking at us, but I basked in the attention. It felt like being alive again.

* * *

Two hours later, it did not feel like being alive again.

"Mulder, did you do all the paperwork by yourself before I got here?" I asked, looking up from what seemed to be my 30,000 document that day.

"Well, I was supposed to…"

"It stinks," I said simply. He smiled and came over to kiss me on the forehead.

"I'm going to be going. I'll be away for the rest of the afternoon. But I'll be home when you get there," he said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"What? You're just ditching me? On my first day back? No, Mulder, you told Skinner that you'd stick around here--"

"Relax, Scully. I'm not ditching you. I just have a few errands to run."

"Mulder!" I yelled as he kissed me again, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door.

I spent the rest of the day hating my supposed partner (in all senses of the word) and his search for the truth.

* * *

"Mulder!" I called when I walked in the door to my apartment. For his sake, he had better have been there. He told me he would be, and I had a few words for him.

"In here, Scully," I heard him from the bedroom. I hoped he wasn't planning on anything. Not only was I mad, I was tired from being at work and looking over those papers all day.

"Mulder, you better have all your clothes on--"

"Close your eyes, Scully."

"What?"

"Close your eyes, and I'm going to lead you over to the bed."

"Mulder, I'm going to make myself very clear. _Nothing _is going to happen tonight."

"Shhhh, just trust me," he whispered in his seductive tone, which immediately made my eyes close. He lead me over to the bed, but then he left the room.

I sat on the bed for a few minutes before I felt something drop in my lap. Something small and furry. Something alive.

"Mulder…?"

"Open your eyes, now."

In my lap lay a small, gray tabby kitten. It looked up at me with curious eyes.

"Oh my gosh," I said, forgetting for a minute that I was mad at Mulder and he hadn't asked me if we could get a cat. I picked it up in my hands and pet it.

"They say people with pets live longer," Mulder explained.

"Oh, so this is your attempt to keep me anchored to this life?"

"It couldn't hurt."

"Mulder, where did you get a kitten?"

"I went to the pound. She was part of a litter born there. Aren't you proud of me, Scully? I helped out the local animal shelter."

"I'm very proud, Mulder," I smiled.

"So, where is your lecture? When are you going to start telling me why we can't have a cat?"

He knew me so well. But as we sat there on my bed, baby cat squirming in my arms, I couldn't find one single reason to get rid of it.

"There's not going to be a lecture, Mulder."

"You're joking."

"No. I think this little one is here to stay."

"That's great, Scully, because I kind of already named her."

"Her?"

"Yeah. Zoe."

"Zoe?"

"Yeah."

"Zoe. Zoe the cat. Zoe Scully-Mulder."

"You like it?"

"Yeah."

Mulder sighed contentedly and kissed me on the temple.

"I love you."

"I know."


	15. Chapter 15

**disclaimer: not mine, don't sue**

**a/n: all i can say is that this story will be done soon. sorry to those of you who actually read it (:**

* * *

"Mulder," I called one day in the office. He was only on the other side of the room, but I felt I needed to yell. I was getting so weak. The energy was draining from me.

"Yeah?" he asked, not concerned, not noticing my concern, and flipping the page in another file. I couldn't answer. I was on the floor. My head was spinning, and my breathing was labored.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, lifting his head up. He rushed over to me when he saw I was on the floor. He cradled my head in his hands while he reached in his pocket and called 9-1-1.

"Mulder," I whispered this time, feeling myself slip away. This was it. This was how I was going to die. We hadn't talked about it, for obvious reasons, and I had wanted to stay at work. But we both knew that I wasn't getting better. I knew it, Mulder knew it, and Andrew couldn't explain it. He was starting to accept the sad fact, but Mulder, though he did know it, refused to believe it. So this was the punishment for us being indifferent. For living each day as if we had another. I was going to die on a heap on the floor in our office. I was going to die right there, in the basement of FBI headquarters, in Mulder's arms.

"Shhhh, you're going to be okay, Scully. Help's coming," Mulder assured me, or himself. He was still unwilling to believe it. And it was infuriating. If I needed to say goodbye, I needed to say goodbye. And I would use the last of my strength to do it.

"I can't… go… like this," I struggled to get out. Tears filled both of our eyes, though I was too exhausted to cry. Mulder's tears spilled down his cheeks, and he wiped them off when they dripped onto my face.

"You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here, with me," he ordered, as if he could control what was happening. I tried to lift my arm to his cheek, to establish some sort of connection between us. I had to make him understand. This was it for me. I didn't want to leave, but if it was time, it was time. My arm never left my side, but Mulder sensed what I was trying to do. He grabbed it and put my cold hand to his cheek.

"Scully, I know I'm being selfish, but you can't go. You can't go because I don't know what I'd do without you. I've never felt so alive before, even though I knew you were dying. You can't be dying, Scully. _We_ can't be dying," he cried, stroking my cheek.

"I love you," I said slowly, wanting to say it before I couldn't anymore. And even that didn't do me justice. I could never express in words, in actions, in writing, in _anything_, how much I loved this man.

"No, Scully, don't tell me that. Don't say you love me. We have such a long time to tell each other that."

"I love you," I said again, trying to get the message across to him. He pulled me close to him, and if I were going to die, I was glad I would be able to smell Mulder. It would carry me through to Heaven, I was sure. And I smiled. Because if I were going to die, I was going to die with a smile on my face. I was going to let everyone know that Mulder made me the happiest woman in the world, despite my cancer. Mulder pulled me away and kissed my forehead, and that was the last thing I saw before I was sure I died.

* * *

More incessant beeping.

I still haven't made it to Heaven.

That thought saddened me for a moment, the thought of not getting into Heaven. But then I remembered life on Earth. And I remembered I didn't want to leave it. It took some work, but I slowly pried my eyes open.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Mulder greeted me immediately. I turned my head to look at him. I was in a hospital. Why was I here? Oh, I was dying, that's right. I scared Mulder on the floor of our office. Why couldn't God just get the dying thing over with? This would happen again… this would most certainly happen again. And I didn't want to do it again.

"How are you feeling?" Mulder asked. I looked around the room once. Standard hospital room. At least they hadn't considered just sending me straight to the morgue yet. My mom was asleep on the couch in front of my bed.

How was I feeling? I had never been able to answer that correctly when Mulder asked me. I would always say fine, or good, but in all actuality, I didn't know how I felt most of the time. But I knew, at that moment, that I felt different. I was stronger. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What was this? Was I in purgatory?

"I feel different," I said, my throat so dry I started to cough. Mulder reached for a glass of water, smiling as he gave it to me. He knew something I didn't, and he was relishing in the fact.

"Different? How so?" he played.

"I feel… better," I told him, not understanding. What had they done to me? Of course waking up in a hospital feels better than dying, but this time was different from every other time I had ended up in this situation. This time, it felt for real.

Mulder's smile lit up the room at that point. Relief spread over his face, and I just wanted him to tell me what was going on.

"Mrs. Scully," he shook my mother gently, "Mrs. Scully, Dana's awake."

"Hmm? Dana… oh Dana!" Mom stirred, fully awake and by my side in a second. I hugged her as she hugged me, but I was so confused and frustrated now.

"Mulder," I coughed, "I want you to tell me what's going on."

"She says she feels better," Mulder told my mother, and she started to cry and thank the Lord.

"Mulder!" I yelled.

"Scully… you're not going to believe it when I tell you."

"I want to hear. What did you do to me? I was dying!"

"You were, you were dying. But you're better now."

"How, Mulder? How did I get better?"

"You've been asleep for three days, Scully. And after I brought you here, I was contacted by somebody who wanted to help you. They gave me a chip--"

"A chip? Like the one I had taken out of my neck?"

"Exactly like that one. They told me that if we just put the chip back, you would get better."

"Oh, Mulder," I said, the elation wearing off. I was not better.

"So of course I did some more research," he said, and I knew there was a story behind it. And I also knew that he had done a hell of a lot to convince my mother to do the things he was claiming he did. He could have only gotten away with that if…

No. He told my mother. I looked over at her and could see wedding bells in her eyes.

"Scully, I convinced the doctor to put the chip in your neck."

"No! No, Mulder, you did NOT put that thing in my neck!" I yelled, getting ready to hit him, but scratching at my neck, where I could feel a bandage.

"Dana, Honey--"

"No, Mom, there's not going to be a chip in the back of my neck for the rest of my life! No!"

"Scully… your cancer is _gone_," Mulder informed me. I lost my breath for a second, and stopped hitting.

Gone?


	16. Chapter 16

**disclaimer: not mine, don't sue**

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There's a little girl with brown hair and blue eyes (with her mother's nose, thank God) in the backyard playing with my husband. He's been her father for four years, but not a day goes by when we don't think of bringing her home from the hospital. Our miracle. The little girl that was never supposed to be.

There's a chip in the back of my neck that took away my cancer. We still don't know how, or why, but it did. And I am thankful for it every day.

There's a man in my life who's crazy about me. He's saved me, and he thanks me for it. Every morning I wake up in his arms, and I know I'm safe.

My cancer did indeed go away all those years ago. Defying all medical explanations, my metastasizing brain tumor shrunk to nothing in a matter of a few days. And while we could have gone back to work to discover more about what had happened to me over those few months, we didn't. I was worried about Mulder's transition to domesticated life, but he told me that our sacrifice was too much. That we deserved this. _We_. Together. Us.

And that's when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Two years later, and we bring our pride and joy, our little Anna, into the world.

"What's for dinner, Mommy?" Mulder asked, carrying Anna on his back into the kitchen.

"I don't know, what's Daddy making?" I asked back, kissing his nose and showing him the pasta on the stove.

Life isn't always perfect. But that's perfect for us.

Pregnancy was something I enjoyed. Like I told Mulder.

When nights come around, we talk about the life we were supposed to have. We talk about the liver-eating mutants and the little grey men. Mulder tells me that he's not sad he left the X-files when he did. He was tired of the runaround. He was tired of the questions that would never get answered. He was tired of putting me in danger and causing me pain. He doesn't know how much happiness he's brought me. He doesn't know that I couldn't live without him, in more ways than one.

I'm still Scully.

He's still Mulder.

Two halves of one whole.

And sometimes I fear, that if I had not invited him to my apartment that day to tell him my terrible news, we wouldn't be there, in bed, with our daughter asleep down the hall.

As terrible and destroying as it was sometimes, my cancer built my life.

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**a/n: this is how i actually feel now, all these years later, after my recovery. cancer destroys. but it lifted me up in the most wonderful way. i imagine it would scully, too.**


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